Bottled Up
by IMSLES
Summary: Gibbs likes his bourbon, but the team wants to save him from a night of overindulgence. Will their mission be a success?  Winner of NFA's Sickness/Addiction Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NCIS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!

BOTTLED UP

Ch 1

He knew they all talked about it. Not in a concerned or worried way, more often than not it was as a joke. He liked his bourbon. It was pretty much that simple. It wasn't too often that he drank to excess. Only on those nights it helped to keep the ghosts at bay.

There were only a few nights a year they came. He didn't fear them, for they would never harm him, at least not physically. He did find their beautiful essences too much to bear. The guilt would consume him. He couldn't look into there ethereal eyes without knowing he'd let them down. He'd failed them. He should've been there to protect them.

They liked to visit on their birthdays, always together. Mother would never leave daughter behind. Daughter would never leave mother's side. On his birthday he would see them, too. Their wedding anniversary was a difficult day, but the hardest was the anniversary of their deaths. It was the day he dreaded the most and the night he began his drinking the earliest.

There was a part of him that wondered if it was the booze addling his brain and making him conjure up their spirits. Then again their visions were too perfect. He found it difficult in his sober state to picture them clearly. Certainly in an inebriated state they would appear less so, not more.

The day of their deaths was coming near again. He wished he could be stronger. His team always saw him as their fearless leader. They had no clue how much of a coward he was when it came to facing his grief.

The little talk he heard of them in regards to his lost family came close, but they didn't think he suffered like anyone else. The drinking? They didn't associate it to his emotions only that after he'd tied one on it was best to stay on his good side until the coffee kicked in.

Ducky may have an inkling to his friend's actions, but he allowed the man to lose himself when he needed to. Seeing the concern on the younger agents' faces and Abby's he began to rethink his own stand. Perhaps it was time for Gibbs to deal with his demons face to face, so to speak. Once resolved to the idea he summoned the group to autopsy. It was time to help their boss whether he liked it or not.

"Okay, Duck. Gibbs got called into the office by Vance. He said he'd keep him as long as possible. But the mood the boss is in today it might not be for very long," Tony informed the M.E. as the team followed him into the quiet home of Dr. Mallard.

"That 'mood' is precisely why I called you all down here. Our dear Jethro is due to go home and imbibe in a copious amount of bourbon. We need to be there and prevent the inevitable day he'll put us through tomorrow."

"You want us to keep him from drinking?" Ziva asked not seeing anyway of succeeding in that venture aside from disarming Gibbs. That would be removing the appendages from his body.

"Yes, Ziva. There is a reason he drinks to excess. It doesn't happen every time he drinks, but I think we've known him long enough. At least I have to sense when he's driven to overindulge."

Tim nodded, "You would know better than us Ducky. What's the plan?"

Ducky looked to each of them in turn.

"You don't have a plan," Tony stated, but decided to throw in his own two cents. "Okay we go to Gibbs. He'll be in the basement so we confront him there. After he glares us all down we get him to talk."

"That would be great if Gibbs actually _talked_," Tim rolled his eyes.

"You got a better idea, Probie?" Tony jeered.

Abby raised her hand jumping up and down excitedly.

"Yes, Abigail?" Ducky smiled at her enthusiasm.

"I could give him one of my very special hugs. He likes them," she smiled proudly.

"Yes that would hold him back momentarily," Ducky patronized her lovingly.

Abby glared hearing his tone, "Well no one else is offering anything." She folded her arms and pouted.

Ziva shook her head sadly at her Goth friend. "Gibbs needs more than a hug Abby. Perhaps we can save your hug for last so that he feels loved. Yes?" she countered.

Abby was cheered by that proposal and perked up to hear what other plans could be presented.

"Nice save Ziva," Tim whispered in her ear walking around her to stand by Abby. "I'm thinking we'll have to investigate why some days, like this one, are so bad for him," he said louder to everyone.

"I don't think it'll take too much investigating," Ducky removed his glasses and pinched his nose between his eyes.

"You know already. Don't you Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy looked knowingly at the older man.

Ducky nodded, "I'm afraid I know a good part of the reason. Today, at least is the anniversary of Shannon's and Kelly's deaths."

Tony mentally Gibbs' slapped himself, as the others quietly digested the fact that all of them failed to register that factor into Gibbs' drinking.

"You have not known about it for very long and have less time than I to keep track of such things," Ducky soothed. "It wasn't until recently I'd seen the pattern myself. The other dates I'm sure are connected in some way to them as well. The bigger question we need to find the answer to is 'why?'."

"Why Duck? Is it not enough that he remembers and relives the pain?" Ziva queried not unfamiliar with persistent unwanted memories rearing their ugly heads at her.

"We all know Gibbs well enough to know that it has to be more than the memories. I'm sure he remembers them everyday and night. So what is remarkable enough on days like today that makes him lose himself in a bottle?"

"I say we go and find out. Whatever it is he won't have to face it alone. We can get him through it," Tim suggested.

"I say we get back to the squad room before Gibbs comes looking for us," Tony looked at his watch.

"Right," Ducky conceded. "Be at his house by 1900. I'll go in a bit earlier and try to prepare him."

"Good luck with that Duck," Tony waved as he pushed his team mates through the door to the elevator.

When Gibbs walked down the stairs the agents were sitting at their desks working. Gibbs stopped up short narrowing his eyes. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but his gut was still on alert.

The rest of the work day passed without a new case arriving. Though Gibbs had continued to observe his agents' interactions nothing was amiss. The usual bantering and cajoling was shared. Deciding he needed to get home, because the night was going to be difficult enough to deal with without trying to figure out what may or may not be going on among his team, he grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and retrieved his gun and badge bidding a gruff "See you in the morning," as he left.

The team bid him good night and watched him leave before making their final plans on where and when to meet. Tim and Ziva would drive together and Tony agreed to pick up Abby. She would be in no condition to drive if things were going to be as emotional as they feared.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN NCIS OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!

BOTTLED UP

Ch 2

He sat in the basement, waiting, wondering, remembering. The bottle of bourbon and a glass set by his side. The boat frame was untouched since he walked down the stairs. The emptiness filled him and the sorrow emptied him. He asked himself the same questions that always plagued him: Why? Why couldn't he get past the grief, the anger, the guilt?

The sound of a floor board creaking caused him to raise his eyes and listen more sharply. The visitor was coming to him with no hesitation and with only a small lamp lighting the room. Whoever it was knew him and his habits.

A few more steps and he recognized the barely perceptible shuffle of his long time friend. He emptied a jar and wiped it out with a towel. "Hey, Duck," he called as the M. E's feet reached the doorway. Gibbs' gut told him this wasn't a simple social visit, but he wasn't sure what it was going to entail.

"Ah, Jethro," Ducky sighed. "I should've known you'd recognize me before you saw me." He eyed the glasses on the work table. One partially filled and the other filled to the brim. Ducky shook his head and lifted his chin toward them. "Perhaps you can talk about that," he stared into the tired blue eyes.

Gibbs glanced at the glasses. "Nothing to talk about. Just a couple drinks between friends," he lifted the less filled one and offered it to his guest. The older man reached past him for the other. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the unexpected action. When the glass was lifted and set down across the room without a sip being taken his eyes narrowed.

"What's up Duck?" he inquired.

Not sure exactly where to start Ducky looked down while gathering his thoughts.

"Never thought I'd see you at a loss for words," Gibbs looked with concern at his friend. "Everything alright?"

Ducky smiled at the irony of Gibbs being the one to ask the question that consumed them all. "I think it is I who should be asking you."

A short laugh escaped followed by "Me? I'm the same as always. Fine."

"No. Not fine Jethro," Ducky said sadly.

"What are you trying to say?" his eyes stared down at the older man. Gibbs always kept his secrets close to the chest. He knew it shouldn't surprise him that the man who had known him all these years would catch on to a pattern of his pain, but he wasn't willing to tell all, just yet.

Ducky glimpsed the walls thinning around Gibbs' resolve, but quickly harden again. If they couldn't get to the heart of the problem, it was going to be a long night and an even longer road that lay in wait.

As the two men stood silently watching each other, the sound of the front door opening was heard followed by the footsteps of the team.

Gibbs visibly slumped and lightly shook his head. He wiped his hand on his row up his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair, of course the M. E. would bring back up. Knowing his team was in on whatever the good doctor had planned filled him with both anger and appreciation.

Anger that they were ganging up on him, obviously planning things behind his back. It came to him then wheat his gut had been sensing all day. They had no right to invade on his privacy and delve into his nightmares.

The appreciation he felt came from the compassion they were all exhibiting. Taking time out of their lives to confront him and knowing that he wasn't going to be very receptive to the idea was above and beyond their work duties.

The combination drained him, especially after the hours at the Yard and the days of tension he'd endured dreading the night he had in store.

Now the desire to escape the ghosts of his girls was increased by the need to avoid the faces of those who were his new family.

They descended the stairs hesitantly, but never stopping completely. Tony leading the way looked at his boss holding eye contact until everyone had reached the bottom.

"Hey, Boss," Tony tried to sound casual with his greeting.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs twisted his neck and shoulder slightly. "Come to watch me sand?" he asked looking at everyone narrowly.

The group looked to Ducky to see how much Gibbs knew.

Straightening himself and pulling his shoulders back, Ducky decided to give it to his friend with both barrels. "Listen Jethro," he began, a bit surprised when the lead agent looked prepared to do just that by leaning back against his work bench, his legs and arms crossed. "We are here to prevent you from hiding in your bourbon. Whatever it is that is troubling you, we'll help you through it."

Gibbs half smiled, _'If only they knew…'_ he thought. He put his arms out in a welcoming gesture, "Fine. Let's see what happens."

Each of the interventionists looked to the others thinking it couldn't be so easy.

"So what should we do?" Tim asked as everyone else nodded their own needs to know.

"Nothing. I'm gonna work and you can watch," Gibbs picked up his sand block and went to work.

Slowly each of the team began to drift to find a place to get comfortable. Tony pulled himself up onto the work table, Ducky took the stool, Ziva and Abby sat at the bottom of the stairs, Tim leaned against a saw horse, and Jimmy who had arrived on his own sat in a corner on the floor with his arms around his knees. All of them continued to watch Gibbs for any signs of distress.

Time passed with almost complete silence. Gibbs had finished the glass of bourbon he had originally intended for his friend and took a break for a refill.

Ducky shook his head, "You won't be needing any more of that tonight. You have us."

Gibbs sighed, but decided that once they all saw the visions he knew were moments away they'd be out drinking him in no time. He focused again on his boat. A tiny spark of hope arose that maybe with everyone present the visions would stay away. At the same time he hoped that, a pang of loss appeared at the thought that he wouldn't get to see them.

He felt the chill in the room and knew he'd see them. His eyes drifted to the place they always arrived. Their faces glowed and his eyes filled with tears he could never shed. They smiled and waved. Guilt overwhelmed and he looked again for his bourbon, but what he found was his friends.

They stood together watching the anguish fill the man they came to save from himself. Nothing was obvious to them to be the cause, but they clearly could see he saw something or perhaps someone as it would take an emotional vision to cause the apparent pain he was enduring.

Ducky was the first to deduce the cause. "They're not really there, Jethro," he said calmly earning puzzled glances from the younger attendees.

"You can't see them Duck? McGee? DiNozzo? Ziva? Abby? Palmer?" he questioned them all receiving only sad shakes of their heads in response. "But I see them. They're so beautiful. I miss them so much," he ended quietly.

"Yes, Jethro and if they could be here, I'm sure they'd be missing you," Ducky put his arm around Gibbs' shoulders. The others gathered closer emitting their own support.

"If they were here Duck, I wouldn't have failed them," the sadness and self-flagellation was thick in his voice.

Without thinking Tony reached out and slapped his mentor on the back of his head. An audible gasp escaped in concert. Instead of shying away Tony stood firm and looked the stricken ex-Gunny in the eyes. "Snap out of it, Boss. They're gone, but it's not your fault. They wouldn't blame you and they sure as hell wouldn't want you wasting away feeling sorry for yourself," Tony chastised the man who had taught him to be the man he was today.

Silence loomed. No one even breathed for what seemed an eternity, until Gibbs moved ever so slightly and raised his eyes to his senior agent. Gone was the lost look, the sorrow dissipated. His eyes focused on the younger man momentarily.

"Thanks, DiNozzo. I needed that," he smirked.

Everyone relaxed and a few twitters of laughter broke through the dumb-struck witnesses. Gibbs stood and put his arm around his agent's shoulders who finally wore a sheepish look for his action. The lead agent pulled him close and spoke so only Tony could hear, "You ever slap me like that again, you might just lose your hand."

Tony gulped and pulled his shoulders back and pushed his chest out as his boss slapped him soundly on the back. "Got it Boss."

"Who wants some coffee?" Gibbs offered walking toward his stairs.

Glances and shrugs of uncertainty preceded the group's ascent behind him. They stayed and observed and conversed leaving after a few hours satisfied that they had seen him through a night that normally had him battling with his demons.

With everyone gone Gibbs rolled his head to release some of the tension residing in his neck. He walked to his basement door pausing with his hand on the knob. He was drawn back to the dimly lit space. The glass of bourbon Ducky had set aside sat still untouched on the table. He picked it up and took a sip. He smiled at the efforts of his friends, his team, his family. He raised the glass and toasted the vision of his wife and daughter standing there watching him.

Maybe from now on he could face them without losing himself in his drink. _'Maybe,'_ he thought as took another swallow.


End file.
